


Calling All Angels

by Ava_Dakedavra



Series: A Winter Soldier's Tale [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Hermione becomes a Howling Commando, Humor, Romance, This is a prequel, Time Travel, just as it's also a sequel, like i said this involves time travel of course it's confusing, wibbly wobbly timey wimey
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-29
Updated: 2019-07-02
Packaged: 2020-03-26 17:51:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,727
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19010836
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ava_Dakedavra/pseuds/Ava_Dakedavra
Summary: Hermione has - willingly, she might add - taken a break from her job at Shield to travel back in time to the past and meddle - fix, she might correct - the timeline of one Sergeant Barnes. She just hadn't expected to find herself stuck in the forties and joining one of the most elite combat units history has ever seen.“I feel like this is a trap.”The woman finally smiled, clasping her perfectly manicured hands and setting them on the table. “Imagine how we feel. Colonel Phillips has decided that we are to tentatively trust you, and that you would be a good fit with the Howling Commandos.”“I’d rather go home and everyone involved can pretend I never existed,” Hermione admitted.The woman hummed, nodding slightly, “While I agree with you, the Colonel thinks that your...skills could be put to good use in order to win the war.”





	1. Let's Get It Started

**Author's Note:**

> Hello all! This story is a follow-up/fill-in-the-blanks of my other story, Call Me "Bucky." I'm afraid you might be a bit confused if you haven't read that one yet, so I highly recommend checking it out first before you try this story. Or don't. I'm not your mother.
> 
> I'll be quiet, you'll be dangerous  
> Want to show you just how love is  
> I'll be singing, you'll be humming  
> Baby know that we got something  
> I'll be laughing, you'll be dancing  
> I guess I'll have to take the chance and  
> I see you standing, think about it  
> Baby, what if we got started?  
> \- Dylan Gardner, "Let's Get It Started"

When Hermione turned the spun the Time Turner, spiralling away from her present and the James Buchanan Barnes that had resurfaced there, she’d felt a lot of things. Sure, she was anxious about the task she’d set about to do, and knew that the next few moments would have to be fast, but what worried her the most was going to be her lengthy stay in the forties.

 

She couldn’t get an exact timeline out of Bucky, as he’d remained tight-lipped about her experiences in his past and her future, but she was aware it would not be an in-and-out expedition. Nevermind the fact that she was diving headfirst into one of the biggest Muggle wars the world had ever seen, but she was also going to be very obviously a witch. She’d lucked out with Shield employing her in the first place - many Muggles weren’t too keen on the idea of witches.

 

Once she stopped spinning, she found herself in the middle of a darkened living room. She looked about the room, and saw the floorplan of her own apartment, yet with dated furniture and many, many picture frames along the walls detailing the life of another family.

 

Sure that she’d made it to the proper century, she cast a quick tempus charm and regarded the time. She had just shy of a minute to be in position, so she got right to it.

 

Hermione Apparated out of New York and into a wintery mountainside. Once she landed and caught her breath, she saw the tiny dots that might have been the other Howling Commandos on their own mission, and quickly spotted the train speeding down the track. Trying to gather her thoughts to the exact position that had been given to her, she halted when she saw a man fall out of the train car, gripping on tightly as he hung there.

 

Within an instant, Hermione was there, wrapping her hands around his forearm and bracing herself to tug.

 

“What? Who - ?” she heard him ask, but she ignored him in favor of stubbornly pulling him up, gripping the back of his shirt as his other hand found purchase on the side of the doorway to  hoist himself up and over to lay on the floor, gasping for air.

 

Hermione regarded him in those moments, pale as a sheet but far, far healthier than she’d ever seen him. His hair was dark and attempting to curl, cut short on the sides and long on top. His jaw was peppered with a faint stubble, and she caught her breath when his eyes met hers. Part of her remembered that she’d departed from him in 2014 with a handful of kisses, hickeys on her neck hidden by magic, and his notch on her bedpost not three minutes ago. She hoped she wasn’t blushing by the memory of it all, because that would be hell to explain.

 

In those few short seconds, a shot rang out and whizzed by her ear, and Hermione recalled that there’d been a fight occurring on the train car. She stood, wand at the ready, and glared at the Nazi soldier.

 

The man regarded her and her stick with a scoff and a sneer, aiming his gun once again, but Hermione merely flicked her wand, sent the gun flying, and sent a kick to his ribs.

 

“ _Bitch_!” he shouted, snarling from the floor.

 

“Close,” Hermione smirked, finding herself slipping into a fighting stance. “ _Witch_.” The man lunged for her, and she sent a flurry of spells as she dodged, trying to think of the ethical circumstances of using magic against muggles in a fight, although it wouldn’t matter too much in this situation - he was a Nazi, after all.

 

The Nazi managed to wrap a hand around her neck, and just as she was readying a stupefy or preparing her skull for a headbutt, another arm shot out and punched him squarely in the side of the face, knocking him unconscious and dropping him to the ground.

 

Hermione gaped as her opponent lay at her feet, and looked back up to Bucky as he shook out his hand, looking at her in a mix of curiosity and admiration. She grinned sheepishly back at him, tucking her wand behind her back, and nervously said, “Err - hi?”

 

She instantly regretted it, because that was the stupidest thing to say in that situation, but he cracked a grin and seemed to relax.

 

“Hi,” he echoed, looking over his shoulder and deciding that the coast was currently clear. “So - ?”

 

“I’m a witch,” she said, stepping over the fallen Nazi and sidestepping the others as she followed him from one train car to the next, possibly intent on finding Steve.

 

“Yeah, heard that,” he quipped, crouching down to grab a gun from the floor, checking the magazine to see how full it was. He was apparently satisfied with it, because he clicked it back into the gun and strapped it to his belt. He paused, looking up at her, and quirked a brow, “Do you need a gun?”

 

She blinked at the question, “Oh, no, at least not right now.”

 

He nodded, standing and continuing his trek to find Steve, aiming towards the sounds of fighting that grew louder as they headed towards the front of the train. “So, what brought you to our train car at just the right moment?”

 

“I was in the neighborhood,” she quipped, and grinned when she heard him bark a laugh. “So, who needs help?” she asked, gesturing to the sounds of destruction ahead of them, although she had a feeling.

 

“ _Steve_ ,” Bucky said with a well-worn sigh, looking irritably towards the ceiling as though God would consider giving him a break.

 

She was ready to laugh and head on to another fight when the sounds of it all stopped. Hermione slipped back into a fighting stance, her wand at the ready as Bucky did the same with his gun.

 

The door of the train car opened, revealing a tall man in blue fatigues, looking desperately around before his eyes landed on Bucky. The two of them, upon seeing each other, relaxed instantly.

 

“Weren’t you dangling off the side of the train?” Steve asked, his eyebrows furrowing as he took stock of his friend.

 

“Yeah, no thanks to _you_ ,” Bucky said with a huff, crossing his arms over his chest.

 

“I got distracted by a dame popping out of _nowhere_ , thanks,” Steve said, finally turning to look at Hermione with a deepset frown. “Pardon my language, but I got my ass handed to me because of you, Miss.”

 

“Lay off of her, Steve, I’m pretty sure she saved my life,” Bucky interjected quickly, making Steve blink at him in surprise.

  
“How - ? Nevermind, we need to find Zola,” Steve insisted, turning to head back towards the front of the train.

 

“He’s not on the train,” Hermione offered, watching them both turn to her in dumbfounded shock.

 

“How can we trust that?” Steve wondered, glaring at her.

 

Hermione sighed. So far, her first interaction with Steve Rogers wasn’t going spectacularly. Phil Coulson would be crushed by how poorly things were going. “You can check, by all means, but I can guarantee you - ”

 

“Zola’s not on the train!” another voice shouted, and a dark skinned man a few inches taller than Bucky appeared not long after, looking between the two childhood friends and staring at Hermione in dumbfounded surprise. She gave a tiny smile and a wave. “What the - ?”

 

“What do you _mean_ he’s not on the train?” Steve stressed.

 

“This whole thing was a trap,” Bucky grumbled irritably.

 

“Where did the dame come from?” the third man, obviously a Commando, asked.

 

“How did they know we would even take the bait?” Steve groaned, pacing as he thought.

 

“He might’ve been on the train,” Bucky reasoned. “But he’s not now.”

 

“Does - does nobody else see the dame?” their friend asked.

 

Bucky sighed, gestured to Hermione, and said, “Yes, Jones, we see the dame. The dame saved my life - we’re talking about Zola right now, can you focus?”

 

Hermione shot a glare to the back of his head. And to think - she’d slept with the man just last night. Well, at least he was focused on the mission at hand, which actually did wonders to calm her. They were in the middle of enemy territory, after all.

  
“Where did the dame come from? How did she save your life? What’s going on?” Jones questioned, looking between Steve and Bucky for answers.

 

“The dame has a name, for those wondering,” Hermione deadpanned. The three men had the good sense to wince, but she waved it off. “We can find Zola later - right now, we need to get off of the train before it reaches its destination. I don’t think I need to tell you that we’ll more than likely be outnumbered.”

 

“We?” Bucky echoed dubiously.

 

“I’d quite like to get off the train as well,” Hermione snorted, doubling back towards the center of their current train car and climbing a few crates to reach the escape hatch.

  
“That’s not what I - ”

 

“I _know_ ,” she sighed, looking skywards for guidance. The sooner she got rid of the preconceived idea of Bucky being flirty yet accommodating, the better. She felt a headache oncoming.

 

Steve climbed the crates as well, punching out the door to the escape hatch and nodding, “She’s right - we can ask and answer questions later.” He looked down to Hermione, shooting her an amused smile, and asked, “Need a lift?”

 

She shot him a glare but sighed, allowing him to hoist her up to the hatch to allow her to climb through. Her eyes stung and began to tear at the cold wind, finding herself grabbing hold of a rail and using it to steady herself before standing. Bucky appeared not long after, followed by Jones and Steve.

 

“Don’t suppose you’ve got a ‘chute in your bag, lady?” Jones yelled over the wind.

 

“Err, no, but I can - ” she produced her wand, and Jones and Steve both stared at it before glancing to each other in silent apprehension as they believed that they were putting their lives in the hands of a mad woman.

 

“Trust her!” Bucky yelled.

 

Getting all of them off of the train and back to their base in Italy was a pain in the neck, and Jones _might’ve_ tossed his lunch once they arrived, but it had gone better than she had expected it to.

 

Up until she was detained by military guards, shoved into an interrogation room, and had waited for hours to be questioned by Colonel Phillips.

 

“We found this on your person,” he explained, holding up the Time Turner between them. “I’d be right in assuming this isn’t just a pretty necklace?”

 

“I’m assuming you talked to Sergeant Barnes, then,” Hermione drawled, relaxing in her chair and ignoring the handcuffs scratching against the metal table. “I wouldn’t spin that, if I were you.”

 

Colonel Phillips pressed his lips and dropped it back into the bag he’d just pulled it from, setting it on the table beside her wand. “I have. He expects me to trust you, but considering we’re currently at war, I’m going to need a little bit more from you before I do that.”

 

Hermione sighed, hanging her head, and sat up straighter in her chair. “My name is Hermione Granger. I’m a witch. I’m from the future. That’s all I’ll tell you.”

 

Colonel Phillips stared her down for several minutes, still as a statue the entire time. She was beginning to wonder if he was breathing before he stood abruptly, took the Time Turner and her wand, and exited the room. She groaned, dropping her head to the table, and hitting herself with it repeatedly.

 

This was stupid. Everything she’d done since last night - _yes_ , even including sleeping with the sergeant, and _no,_ she was no longer addressing him with any sort of nickname - had been nothing more than a stupid mistake. She could’ve gone into work, filed papers and signed meaningless documents, and lived her boring life uninterrupted.

 

Although, she had to admit, the past twenty-four hours had been more entertaining than everything she’d done at Shield.

 

The door opened again, and a pretty brunette woman in uniform stood before her. Her hair was pulled into perfect victory curls, her red lipstick fresh and her eyes bright. A guard stepped into the room as well, pulling Hermione from the chair and fiddling with his keys. He uncuffed her, gestured back to the chair, and exited the room as the woman took a seat opposite her.

 

Hermione sat once the door shut, and looked back to the other woman in curiosity.

 

“I’ll make myself perfectly clear,” she began, her face portraying no emotion. “If you do anything to harm this unit or the Allied powers’ winning this war, I personally will deliver you straight to a lifelong stay in solitary confinement.”

 

“Noted,” Hermione mumbled.

 

“That being said,” the woman sniffed, dropping Hermione’s wand onto the table, “Welcome aboard, Granger.”

 

Hermione stared back at her, trying to decide if this was some sort of joke or not, and looked back to her wand. “I feel like this is a trap.”

 

The woman finally smiled, clasping her perfectly manicured hands and setting them on the table. “Imagine how we feel. Colonel Phillips has decided that we are to tentatively trust you, and that you would be a good fit with the Howling Commandos.”

 

“I’d rather go home and everyone involved can pretend I never existed,” Hermione admitted.

 

The woman hummed, nodding slightly, “While I agree with you, the Colonel thinks that your...skills could be put to good use in order to win the war.”

 

“Meaning...what? He confiscated my only way home until he’s decided I’m no longer useful?” Hermione glared, feeling herself growing angry.

 

“That’s one way of looking at it,” she said, standing and pushing her chair in. “Now, let’s introduce you to your new teammates.”

 

Hermione followed the woman - who she guessed was Peggy Carter - down many corridors and past many a confused face. They finally came to a stop outside of a mess hall, opening the door and entering to find that only Colonel Phillips and the Howling Commandos were inside and causing absolute chaos.

 

“You’re telling me that there’s a dame joining us? A dame? Is this a joke?” one voice carried over.

 

“This is insane! I don’t care _what_ those three are saying, there’s no way - !”

 

Hermione sighed and contemplated turning around, leaving, and figuring out life in the 1940s. With no identification, any records of her existence, or usable money. It was a short contemplation.

  
“Hey!” one voice shouted, and Hermione was surprised to see Barnes standing atop a table and glaring down at his friends as they quieted. Steve, standing off to the corner, watched on silently. “Listen, I know it _sounds_ insane, but the woman - she’s good. She’s damn good, and if any of you have a problem with her then you can take it up with me.”

 

“Well, with that sparkling introduction,” Phillips began, motioning for Peggy and Hermione to join them. They did so, Hermione standing between them and glaring down at her shoes. “Men, this is...err...Granger. Starting tomorrow, she’ll be joining you on missions. Play nice.”

 

“Fat chance,” someone grumbled, and a quiet murmur went through the irritable men.

 

Steve straightened, making his way to Hermione with his hand outstretched, silencing his teammates, and gave a pleasant smile. “Ma’am, welcome aboard. Sorry for the crumby first impression on the train. Captain Steve Rogers.”

 

Hermione found herself smiling despite the situation, shaking his hand as well and straightening her shoulders, “No harm done, Captain. Call me Hermione.”

 

“What a name,” Barnes said, grinning as he came to a halt beside Steve and offering his hand to shake as well. “Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes. Call me Bucky.”

 

Hermione pursed her lips, trying to mask her utter amusement at that simple phrase, and turned to Jones, who was already eagerly extending his hand to her as well. “Gabe Jones - welcome aboard, ma’am. Please never put me through that squeezy thing again.”

 

Hermione barked a laugh, grinning back at him as she stuffed her hands inside her pockets. “I’ll try my best.”

 

Steve turned to the other Commandos, who were glaring holes in Jones’s back. He stared them down, and they each stared back, defiant. “Well, since no one else will do it - That’s Falsworth, Dugan, Dernier, and Morita.”

 

“Hullo,” Hermione said politely, although the other men were content to ignore her existence. She bit back a sigh, and felt that an uphill battle with the men was beginning to loom. She’d known that sexism, among other things, had been rampant in the forties but she’d thought that maybe these men would be better than most. She supposed that’s what she got for assuming.

 

“You’ll set out at oh-six hundred,” Colonel Phillips announced, turning on his heel and exiting the room. “Agent Carter will go about getting your belongings situated, Granger, and report back to you here.”

 

Peggy nodded, shot a smile to Hermione, and turned to follow Colonel Phillips out the door. Once it shut with a loud clang, Hermione couldn’t help but feel trapped.

 

It seemed that the team wasn’t sure what to do or say anymore than she was, and Hermione found herself picking anxiously at her nails before she reminded herself to stop. It was a nasty habit that she’d had since childhood, and she’d hate for it to resurface.

 

“So, Hermione,” Jones began, grinning brightly at her, obviously hoping to break the awkward silence, “Tell us a bit about yourself!”

 

Hermione faltered. What was a time traveling witch allowed to mention about herself? Well, she supposed that three of the men had been exposed to her magic and had taken the news relatively fine, so she shrugged. “I like books, I’m twenty-three, and I’m a witch.”

 

Someone - she’s pretty sure it was Falsworth - scoffed loudly and stood, glaring at her as he clutched the back of a chair. “You’ve _got_ to be joking. This is all a joke, isn’t it? Steve?”

 

Steve shook his head, crossing his arms over his chest, yet said nothing more.

 

Hermione huffed, setting her hands on her hips, and glared back at the men. “Honestly, I’m no more pleased to be here than any of you are to have me. But while I am here, I will happily prove every _single_ one of you wrong about me.” Falsworth screwed up his mouth under the tiny mustache, and she scowled as she made eye contact. “And I’m a bit hurt that a fellow Brit is being such a massive wanker!”

 

“You can’t expect us to believe that you’re _actually_ a witch,” Dugan tried to reason with a sigh as Falsworth sputtered and gaped at the insult.

 

“I _told you_ what happened!” Jones shouted back.

 

“No offense, Jones, but telling us that you got zapped from the train to the base sounds _insane_!” Morita insisted.

 

Hermione squared her shoulders, took out her wand, and noticed that Steve and Bucky were quick to get out of her way. “Jones, do you mind being a demonstration?”

 

“Nope - hit me with your best shot, ma’am,” he said, puffing out his chest and grinning when his friends scoffed and rolled their eyes.

 

“Brace yourself - _Levicorpus_ ,” she said, watching as Jones was strung up by his ankle, and seeing the disbelief and shock cross the other Commandos faces.

 

All was silent for a moment or two before Bucky, beaming like a child on Christmas as he stepped up to Jones to give him a quick spin. “ _I_ like her,” he said before turning to look at Hermione with wide eyes. She ignored the way her heart lurched in her chest, because she absolutely was not about to be doing any of _that_ nonsense. Nope. No siree. That ship had already sailed away over the horizon, never to be seen again. “What else can you do?”

 

“Can it maybe be putting me down?” Jones mumbled, eyes squeezed shut as he spun.

 

Hermione did just that, levitating a few plates and cutlery and throwing in a few sparks for good measure. The entire time, the rest of the team was silent, watching her small demonstration before she pocketed her wand and looked to them.

 

‘We’re keeping her,” Dugan declared, smacking the table as he stood, nodding as though he’d given the final say. Steve snorted in amusement, grinning at the man with the large ginger mustache. “Hell _yes_ , we are _keeping her._ ”

 

“I’m assuming you can do more? Like, say, offensive type of...magic?” Morita questioned.

 

“And defensive,” she answered calmly, “I’m quite adept at both.” Morita nodded, leaning back in his chair and regarding her wand carefully. “No, you can’t sneak off with it and practice magic,” she said, and he sheepishly grinned back at her. “Without me, the wand is just a stick. More powerful witches and wizards are able to do magic without a wand, and while I am able to in short spurts, I find that I like having the control when it comes to things like fighting, or when I want to be terribly precise.”

 

“Zere are...ozzers?” Dernier asked, blinking at her. “Like you?”

 

“Oh, yes,” Hermione smiled. She loved talking about her magic and educating others on it, although it wasn’t as though she’d had many opportunities to do so beyond her first few months at Shield. “Entire societies, in fact. There are magical schools where we’re taught as children to young adults how to control and improve our magic.”

 

“Hey, Falsworth, still feel like it’s a joke?” Jones questioned, smirking at the stunned British man.

 

Falsworth froze, looking back at Hermione, and coughed awkwardly into his fist. “I...err - well, ma’am, I suppose I owe you an apology.”

 

Hermione was about to accept it, ready to move on, when Bucky interjected, leaning closer to the man with a shit-eating grin. “ _For?_ ” he needled.

 

Falsworth sighed, glancing heavenward, and begrudgingly tacked on “ - for being a massive wanker.”

 

Hermione chuckled, watching the other men taking the mickey out of him. She looked up to Steve as he neared her, reclining against a nearby table and nodding his head towards all of the new chaos that his team - _their_ team - was brewing. “Think you can handle this?” he asked, arching a brow and allowing her to take stock of the situation.

 

She was seventy years into the past, the only woman and witch on a team of soldiers fighting against Nazis in the second World fucking War, and not to mention the entire kit-and-kaboodle involving Bucky that had brought her there in the first place.

 

Hermione sighed, rolling her eyes and shrugging her shoulders, just knowing that she’d have a massive headache if she tried to mentally sort everything now. “I’ve handled worse,” she mentioned, smiling when Steve looked at her in amused confusion. She waved a hand through the matter with a grin, “Some other time, maybe. My question is - do you think your lot can handle me?”

 

Steve hummed, casting a barely noticeable glance to Bucky, who was currently pleading with Falsworth to list off more British insults to use in his apology, and smiled to himself. “I think at least one of us will be able to,” he said, and quirked a grin at her suspicious glare. “Come on - I’ll help you find Agent Carter and we’ll see about getting your bag back.”

 

Hermione followed Steve out of the mess hall, unnoticed by the rest of the team as they slipped out, praying that the next morning would go better than their first meeting had.


	2. Bad Word

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's that time of the month....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey hey, every touch is a trap  
> I know you got the best of me  
> But the rest is up for grabs  
> \- Panicland

Hermione had been travelling with the Commandos a little over two weeks, marching through dense forests not unlike those she’d hid in at the age of seventeen, but she kept those musings to herself. 

 

The men had each struck up a tentative friendship with her, in their own sort of way that made sense with themselves. 

 

Falsworth questioned her musings on Churchill, and which tea was her favorite and how they could both use a hot cuppa to wait out the rainy bleak days of the war. Dugan boisterously told her different jokes, most of which included slang she was completely unfamiliar with, but ultimately treated her as one of the blokes. Jones and Morita took great pleasure in asking about her magic, Morita eager to learn about offensive spells and Jones merely wanting to learn about magic for magic’s sake. Dernier had been quiet in the beginning, before he mumbled something in French and Hermione answered in broken, rusty, accented French and he’d exploded into conversation, eager to have someone to talk to who could somewhat understand him. 

 

Bucky and Steve seemed to give her space, appearing to wait her out and study her before conferring to themselves, but they were nice enough, Bucky especially - although they did have a few snags. She’d had to throw a boot at him on one of the first nights when he offered to pitch her tent for her, and she’d lectured everyone in the vicinity about how the weak, fragile image of women was nothing more than a societal construct and if  _ anyone _ thought she was weak and fragile she’d be happy to prove them wrong. 

 

Oh, the irony. 

 

Hermione gritted her teeth, curled on her cot in her tent, hearing the patterings of rain against the tarp and willing every muscle in her body - one in particular - to just stop hurting. She’d been awake for a few hours, trying to ignore the telltale cramps that came once a month even as they persisted, to no avail. She’d heard the boys stirring around for a bit, some mumbles and mutterings before footsteps neared where she lay. 

 

“Oy, Hermione, rise ‘n shine!” Morita called, and Hermione inwardly groaned as she wondered how she was going to face the group of men while she suffered from the effects of her period. Because while she’d been smart enough to pack modern tampons, and Peggy and the nurses had discretely given her a stash of time appropriate versions, she’d been too distracted to think of packing any pain medication or potions. 

 

“Yeah,” she called back, making short work of throwing on a pair of borrowed fatigues and working her hair up into a knot. She tugged on her boots, had to double over in pain a few times, but managed her way out of her tent and into the clearing where they’d made camp and she’d thrown up some spells. 

 

“Good morning,” Steve remarked cheerily, and Dugan and Falsworth shot her cheeky grins at her disheveled appearance as she sat down on the ground beside him, hiding in the large over shirt she wore and curling in on herself. 

 

“Morning,” she answered, trying to keep the scowl and the grimace off of her face. 

 

“Sleep well?” Dugan teased across the meager fire. 

 

“Peachy,” she spat back, reaching for the coffee and rations as they each chuckled at her. “What’re we doing today?” 

 

“Tearing down camp, we’ve got a weapons base 50 miles north-west of here to get to by tonight,” Steve answered coolly, taking a sip from his own coffee. 

 

Hermione hummed, sipping her coffee and staring at her plate of food. She  _ knew _ she needed to eat, especially because they had a nightmare hike to get through, but her stomach roiled at the thought of food. She forced a few bites down, but was picking at the dry biscuit by the time Bucky, Jones, Morita and Dernier made their appearances. Morita and Jones had just woken up, having each taken the latest watch shifts, while Bucky and Dernier had done a perimeter sweep. 

 

“What’s wrong with you?” Bucky asked Hermione by way of greeting, looking at her curiously, “You getting sick?” 

 

“I’m fine,” Hermione grumbled back, shooting him a glare. He eyed her plate with the crumbled remaints of a biscuit and hummed, shrugging off her answer and turning to Steve to give the all clear. 

 

They packed up camp, Hermione more grateful than ever that she had magic, because she was able to sit curled up on the ground and stare at her boot laces as the boys packed up their own belongings. Normally, she’d be eager to help and get everything on the road, or at the very least take down the protective spells covering the clearing, but she absolutely didn’t feel like it. So what if Muggles wouldn’t be able to walk through the clearing for years to come? Maybe they’d pass it off as a faerie ring and steer clear of the place. 

 

“Hey, we’re ready if you are,” Bucky announced, breaking her from her thoughts and looking at her worriedly. Behind him, the other men had their gear strapped on their backs and waiting for them. “You sure you’re okay?” 

 

“I’m fine,” Hermione answered stubbornly, heaving herself up and grabbing her own gear to begin marching with the rest of them on the hellish hike. 

 

She was fine for a stretch, feeling the exercise helping her cramps, but before too long Hermione had slunk to the end of the group, allowing herself to wrap her arms around her middle and try to ignore the sharp, stabbing pain. 

 

Ultimately, Hermione found herself kneeling over, someone giving a shout to halt their trek as she tried to avoid vomiting. She folded in on herself, pressing her forehead to the cool earth, and trying to breathe through the pain. 

 

“Hey, Granger, Kiddo, what’s wrong, talk to us,” Dugan coached, a large and heavy hand on her back that wasn’t helping. 

 

“What happened? Were you shot?” Morita asked, clearly confused because they hadn’t  _ heard _ anything. Dernier hovered close behind, his hand disappeared into his medical pack.

 

“Poisoned? Girly, talk to us,” Jones urged. 

 

“Oh my  _ God _ , shut up and get away from her,” Bucky shouted, stepping between her and the other men as she took her moment kneeling in the earth to pray to every deity out there to just end it all. If the pain wasn’t going to kill her, the embarrassment was. 

 

“Buck, we’re just worried, we need to - “ Steve began, before he was cut off. 

 

“Dernier, give her some pain killers,” Bucky instructed bluntly. 

 

“Oui,” Dernier obliged, handing the tablets to her and offering a canteen. Hermione took them before returning back to Mother Earth with a groan. 

 

“Do  _ you _ know what’s wrong with her?” Falsworth asked skeptically. 

 

Bucky snorted, and Hermione sat up long enough to see him glaring at their team. “Yes, and frankly, I’m a bit disappointed that you haven’t figured it out. Especially you, Steve, come on.” 

 

Steve blinked in surprise at being called out, gaping at his childhood friend in betrayal. “I’m no psychic, Buck, how the hell am I - ?”

 

“I’m on my period, you entire team of dumbasses,” Hermione cut in, barking a laugh as each of them fell silent, some blushing and looking away and others staring at their shoes. 

 

Dernier, however, snorted and smacked his forehead, giving a sigh, “ _ Duh. _ ” 

 

Bucky grinned back at him, looking to Hermione with a surprising amount of gentleness, “Do you want to keep going?” 

  
“Yeah, just give me a few minutes to really feel the pain killers, but they’ve already done wonders, thank you,” Hermione said. 

 

The others nodded, dispersing from her and muttering to themselves as Dernier passed her a packet of painkillers and an extra canteen for her to take whenever she needed. 

 

Bucky sat on the ground beside her, staring up at the clouds between the trees as Hermione gulped down the water. Eventually, she turned to look at him, staring at him pointedly until he felt her gaze and grinned without looking at her. “I’ve got a younger sister. Her name’s Becca, and she’s dramatic and loud and let’s you know  _ exactly _ what’s wrong.” 

 

“Bless her,” Hermione sighed, looking up at the clouds as well. “I thought suffering in silence was going to be my best bet.” 

 

Bucky snorted, finally turning to her and shooting her a frown, “Don’t be stupid. Ask for help from the ‘entire team of dumbasses’ and myself next time.”

 

Hermione nodded, pausing before grimacing, “Err, I guess I should apologize for being so...rude to you, about receiving help. I guess I just wanted to prove I was more capable than men of this era seem to think.” 

 

Bucky blinked before grinning, shrugging it off easily, “Eh, only thing hurt was my ego, but don’t worry - it’s still in tact.” He smiled at her snort of laughter before standing, dusting off the seat of his pants and clapping his hands to remove the mud. “Trust me, I think you’re the most capable and independent woman I know, and that’s saying something since I know plenty. Still - let me help where I can?” 

 

At this, he offered his hand to her, and Hermione was surprised by her lack of hesitation in taking it. “Deal,” she said, allowing him to hoist her up and to her feet. “Now, onward in this hellish trek before my cramps make a reappearance.”

 

“You heard the lady, let’s get going!” Bucky shouted, hustling the team back into motion, although he and Dernier were close at hand for the remainder of the trek, and Steve made a few bumbling attempts at an apology that was quite entertaining and helped pass the time as the team ribbed him good naturedly on asking if it hurt. 

 

“Well,  _ I’ve _ never had one, so how would  _ I _ know?!” Steve defended, although his ears were a little bit pink. 

 

“Steve,” Hermione said, pressing a hand against his arm empathetically as he looked down at her. “It hurts like a fucking  _ bitch _ .” 

 

This was met with uproarious laughter as Steve blinked down in amused surprise, laughing and patting her hand as he admonished with an insincere “ _ Language! _ ”

 

Any further missions or time spent with the Commandos while she was on her period went far more smoothly and with a heap of understanding, which Hermione was sure each of the men’s wives would appreciate when things were said and done and they were all able to go home. So, you know, far better than she expected.


End file.
